


there is a violence in love

by thetruthmayvary



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetruthmayvary/pseuds/thetruthmayvary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry realizes there will be no cheeky smiles and needy kisses to feed his addiction - no unpredictability, because Louis simply won't be his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is a violence in love

 

In the novels and poems the person always glides into the room. They are gracious and elegant and you fall in love with their grace and elegance, you're swept away by their softness and soft edges, and they make you feel comfortable and relaxed - like you're floating on a cloud.

Louis doesn't glide into the room.  He staggers and jumps and he is nothing but bouncing energy and drastic edges and a surprise after surprise.  He makes Harry feel nervous and uncomfortable and like he's floating on an air mattress on the wavy surface of an ocean with constantly changing currents.

 Louis' like cocaine because he has two effects – he can make Harry feel euphoric, supreme, like he can take on the whole world and still come out undefeated, but he can also make him feel restless, anemic and filled with panic that has no real anchor to hold onto, so it runs away from him in moments when it’s most inappropriate.

And Harry is more than addicted.  What he feels isn't just need - it's a demand, every single part of him screams for Louis. It's overwhelming at times, but the moments when he wishes for it to disappear don't exist. It’s what makes him more alive than anything else, so wishing for it to perish would be like wishing for your life to end.

And Harry doesn't want that, how could he?  He spends every single night imagining the rest of it.

Sometimes he thinks Louis is completely aware of the effect he has on him. He would smile cheekily in his direction and Harry’s insides would scream with want and need and it wouldn’t even worry him, because he’s got so used to it. It’s been that way from the very start.

But sometimes Louis doesn’t smile. Sometimes he frowns. Sometimes he ignores Harry’s desperate attempts to catch his stare. Sometimes he denies Harry his smirk and his touches and the attention Harry is so hungry for.

And sometimes Harry can’t take it. Sometimes he can’t stand the constantly changing currents and the cuts of Louis’ sharp edges and the unpredictability of his actions. Sometimes the wounds are too deep and all Harry can feel is seemingly never ending pain.

Even at times like that, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t– not when it comes to Louis.

And when one winter night, when London is caped in (rarely seen) snow, Louis tells him they're done, Harry realizes there will be no cheeky smiles and needy kisses to feed his addiction - no unpredictability, because Louis simply won’t be his.

For the first time ever he wishes Louis glided in the room because then he probably wouldn’t have bumped into him in that bathroom two and a half years ago.

And he probably wouldn’t have to face the regret he never thought he could feel.


End file.
